“Quite.” Harry Vincent smiled. “In fact, he intends to come to America himself. With another friend of yours, Ronald Stokes — son of Sir Hubert Stokes—”
“How soon?” inquired Bob, trying to feign enthusiasm.
“I fancy they are on the ocean now,” declared Vincent. “I have no knowledge of their sailing, but they may arrive within the next fortnight.”
Bob Maddox was thinking quickly. Both names mentioned by Vincent were familiar to him, not only through papers belonging to Bob Galvin, but also through letters which now rested in Theodore Galvin’s desk — letters which the nephew had written to his American uncle during the past year.
It was this latter fact that gave him a sudden suspicion. The Shadow had been at that desk when he had been seen by Betty Mandell!
“Six o’clock,” observed Bob, glancing at his watch. “By Jove, I didn’t know it was so late. I say, old fellow, where are you stopping?”
“At the Astorbilt.”
“Suppose I stop there for you — in about an hour? I should like to have you dine with me. We shall have more time to talk. I have a few important phone calls to make; I must dress—”
“Certainly,” said Harry, rising. “I shall return to the hotel, to expect you between seven and half after—”
“Between half after seven and eight,” suggested Bob.